Risking it all for one person
by EmmaCollette
Summary: AU Snape's position with the Dark Lord is precarious. Dumbledore fears he is suspicious of the Potion Masters loyalties. As a safety precaution, to ensure the continuation of the flow of inside information Dumbledore has Tonks and Hestia join the DE's.
1. A good beginning to a bad day

Slightly unnerved, but ever so excited, she emerged from his office, her squeals being stifled only by her groans as she slipped up on a loose floorboard. Composing herself, she stuffed the note and her hands into her dungaree pockets and bit her bottom lip in a child-like manner, as she grinned clearly.

Somehow, she just could not help it. Being young and fairly inexperienced, she didn't think he would've ever dreamed of offering her the post of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Breaking into a skip, despite her earlier fall, she smiled even when passing the suspicious looking Kreacher who was kneeling and bowing before the portrait of Sirius' mother.

Whistling, she locked her hand around the bannister as she walked down the stairs. Knowing fully well she shouldn't really tell the kids, she replaced her smile with a look of indifference and passed by Hermione and Ron without a word, as they huddled in a corner, seemingly deep in whisperings with each other.

Spying Harry, Luna and Ginny in the living room and waving to them briefly as she went past, she made note of the disgruntled look on the younger Weasley's face as Miss Lovegood and Mr Potter divulged into a discussion.

Barely looking where she were going, she opened the Kitchen door, that swung through both ways and heard the not-so-good sound of someone moaning behind it. Knowing her clumsy attitude had resulted in someone's pain again, she was about to apologise when Severus opened the door for her to walk through, clutching a bloody nose. He looked exasperated as he walked past her and seemed to spit her name, "Nymphadora!" quite vehemently. Narrowing her eyes in boiling fury, she gritted her teeth and snarled, "Tonks...is my name." After one last look of anger toward him, she sat on the bench and pulled out the note from her pocket. Unscrunching it, she sighed, annoyed that she could've gone from being so over-joyed to so thoroughly pissed off, in a couple if minutes.

Scrumpling the invitation back up and shoving it instantly in her pocket, as the herd scrambled into the kitchen, she smiled with her lips at the bunch of mildly happy faces that entered the room. As per normal, the kids sat around one table, the adults at the other. Tonks had often felt caught in the middle. She didn't quite fit in with the adults, she didn't know much about Voldemort and whenever she tried to be helpful, Snape would always either sneer or make a nasty comment toward her. Then again, she didn't fit in with the mindless gossip from the hormonal teens, over who Ginny was currently dating and whether Ron and Hermione were currently talking to each other or not.

Sighing, resting her chin in her hand, she smiled with her teeth, toward Harry who looked sullenly downhearted and he smiled half-heartedly. Reassured, knowing the effort of his happiness at least showed he was dealing with Sirius' death, her eyes left him, knowing she had no longer had a reason to delay looking at the people around her. Out of the very corner of her eye, she spotted him sweeping through the door in his usual black cloak, a small white band placed neatly across his nose, even though it looked rather odd. Around it were a spot of bruising and she looked away awkwardly, feeling a sudden blush arise on her face, as Emmaline Vance and Hestia Jones started gossiping behind their palms and giving the two warying looks.

Tonks distinctly heard them whispering about her having punched him. If only, she thought, thinking maybe that would've sounded alot less pathetic than just swinging a door in the man's face. He too seemed to become aware of the gossiping and she couldn't help but notice the cruel, harsh look he flashed her as he picked up his plate and left the room, after telling Dumbledore that he was going to eat in his own quarters.

Her hands slipping across the back of her head, she breathed in heavily and shook her head a little. There really was no need for him to be that excruciatingly unforgiving. It was, after all, an accident. Nodding her head, as a few of the elder women, namely Molly and Minerva, reassured her that he was like that with everyone, she set about stirring her bowl of stew with her wooden spoon, rarely raising the food to her lips at all. Meaning to try and sneak away quietly, she lifted her leg, but accidentally ended up on the floor, having caught one of her shoelaces under the other boot and landed on her bum on the stone floor, stew all down her front.

Apologising to Molly incessantly, she wiped herself down and then left the room hurriedly, he face burning with embarassment.

Knocking on his door sharply, she were shocked when he opened the door t her before she had even had the chance to rap her knuckles against the wood a second time. Regaining her composure, she cleared her throat and demanded,

"Do you have any idea how much you've just embarassed me?"

Leaving the door hanging open, he walked away from the doorway. Not sure what she was supposed to do, she edged through it a little and stood agitatedly as he wandered around the room aimlessly, apparently distracted.

"And the embrassment," he sneered, "Is clearly obvious seeing as you are the one with the broken nose."

Scoffing in disbelief, though she didn't quite know why she hadn't expected him to be difficult, she retorted,

"Sauntering out of the kitchen, making an announcement that you'd eat alone and then stare at me cruelly. No, that isn't embarassing one bit, is it?"

Slamming a cupboard drawer shut, that he had been scurrying round in, a snarled,

"For Merlin's sake, do you realise what you sound like. You remind me of one of those insolent brats I teach. Do yourself a favour and stop twittering on and leave me in peace!"

Scowling, she folded her arms, deciding to be even more difficult. He could define it as immaturity for all she cared.

"Why?"

Sighing, raising a hand to his forehead and staring at her, a smirk forming on his face, he said,

"It baffles me, how you find my absence more embrassing than standing there talking to me, with stew spilt all over your garments as if you're adept to missing your mouth when eating."

Flushing furiously, and feeling utterly annoyed at his ability to wind her up, she were about to swear at him, when she saw the faint movement of his lips and noted the weight of her clothes lighten. Looking down, she found the spillage had disappeared. Having nothing better to say, she thanked him rather reluctantly and then resumed her angry state,

"Do you know what Hestia is saying? That I punched you. I bloody well wish I had, it'd make for a better story than swinging a door in your face."

Returning to his normal moody self, he sneered, "Well then, take her advice and next time, when you feel a clumsy moment coming on, swing your fist at me instead." With that he swept past her, pushing her out of his room and locking his door with a key, behind him. "Now, if you don't mind, I have far more important ordeals to tend to."

"Sorry." she said quietly, as he left, so much so that he almost missed it. Without looking back at her, he shot back, "As I said, next time if you intend to hurt me, make it worth your while." Infuriated that he hadn't seemed to have accepted her grudging apology, she regretted giving it and shot off toward her room.


	2. Differing encounters & revelations

Deciding that perhaps she ought to think over what exactly she were going to teach at Hogwarts, she sat her desk and started scrawling random ideas onto scrap pieces of paper. Her concentration on this matter lasted barely five minutes, before she found herself staring into the mirror, fingering her current hair style. Her hair was a flaming shade of red and hung in tight curls that reached barely to her shoulders. Wrinkling her nose up, she sighed and ran her finger through her wavy hair, wistfully. Tonks never showed anyone the real her, but this shade of dirty blonde was the natural way her hair would hang. Her eyes roaming over the waves, she pointed her wand and straightened them, hating the way in which her natural hair never seemed to want to do what she wanted it to.

Putting her wand away in a drawer on the desk, she lifted her quill once more and held it in mid-air, as though she were about to write something. Something in the reflection had caught her eye. It was in her eyes, inside of them, that she saw and fascinatingly realised she were looking at her true self for the first time in months. Throughout her auror training and her initiation into the order, she had continually changed her appearance.

Shaking from her dream, she swore loudly as she saw that a small puddle of blue ink had formed on her dungarees. Scrunching her nose up once more, she was pleased to see the dungarees disappear and in its place appear a pair of boot cut jeans. Changing her shirt the muggle way, she left the sleeve buttons undone and rolled them up toward her elbows. Just as she were about to leave the room, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and imaged the red curls back. Pleased that she had remembered to change her appearance back, she opened the door and left the room, in search of some inspiration.

She leant upon a rotting windowsill, in one of the basement windows, the darkness of the room bringing her no inspiration. Fumbling with the crumpled up note in her hand, she wondered what on earth had driven her to accept the proposal. What had Dumbledore been drinking when he'd decided to give her the job?

Allowing the note to fall from her hands, onto the dust covered rotting carpet, she ran a hand through her hair and groaned, forgetting it were curled and got her nails caught amongst the threads. Wriggling her small button-like nose, her hair straightened out and the color faded into black. Feeling the color matched her mood, she left it that way, whilst picking red strands out from underneath her now chipped and broken nails.

She had absolutely no idea how to handle a class. She had not the faintest clue how to teach. All she knew were the facts, the information that she needed to get across. She could credit herself for knowing what level of sorcerory to teach each individual year and what standards she knew she had to raise them too, but, every time she'd imagined herself standing in front of a crowd of kids, trying to teach them she'd fail miserably.

Thinking perhaps Albus had made a grave mistake and thought it too horrible to take back, she opened the heavy oak door and made to climb up the stone steps and back into the main part of the building. In the dark, she had failed to notice someone hovering over an unseeable cauldron in the corner and it was his voice that made her jump and caused the door to slam shut. True to her lack of luck, the only candle lit, the one he was holding was blown out as a result of her reaction to his appearance. She waited with baited breath for the obvious sneer and, true also to his persona, he responded, but rather in a different manner than she had supposed. A scuffling of feet told her he were moving and, frozen, she stood still, feeling suddenly vulnerable and sensing his breath somewhere close. Not wanting to risk running into him, she stood as still as a tree trunk and fastened her arms to her side.

The sound drew closer and, as it did so, she felt a piece of paper being pushed into her hand and felt him brush past her, whilst saying, "You don't want that to fall into the wrong hands."

Nodding her head in the empty, silent darkness, she clung to the piece of paper as if it were her life. Stowing it away in her pocket, she opened her mouth to thank him as he re-lit the candle. She almost jumped of fright, for the second time, as she saw his face illuminate only a couple of inches from hers. Guessing what she were about to say, he sneered and commented,

"Don't thank me. If it had been my choice, I wouldn't have appointed you."

Feeling as though he may as well have struck her across the face, she felt the sudden need to lash out. Rashly, she took a harsh grip on the wrist that was hanging loose. He didn't seem to find this amusing, as his eyes came upon her skin with a look of loathing, of disgust. Flinging her hand from him, slightly disturbed, he commanded her,

"Get off me, petty child. Leave."

Normally, Tonks didn't allow herself to be ordered around, but something about being in this pitch room with only him and an ominous looking cauldron made the bottom of her stomach vanish. Taking advantage of the request fully, she left swiftly and closed the door behind her, this time allowing the candle to stay alight.

Severus watched her only briefly as she left and then turned back to his cauldron. There was something about being touched that deeply unnerved him. Perhaps it was because he had only ever allowed one woman to touch him and now she were dead, but the sensation sent a feeling of almost fright through him. He clenched his hand tightly around the ladle, stirring the brew, fully aware that his hand seemed to be throbbing where she had clasped onto him. Heat rising up through his body, he undid his top collar button, shaking his head in disbelief, frustration. Annoyed at the girl, he hung his robe up on a stand that stood to his left and focused his full attention on the fresh brew of Wolfsbane Potions.

Her mood still dark, her anger flaring, Tonks felt her eyes shift from hazel to that of a crimson shade of red, although her hair stayed deathly black. It was because of this physical change, that Remus, at first, did not notice her as she climbed upward out of the basement and stormed past him up the main staircase.

Taking a second, but careful glance, he caught the tense look upon her delicate face and followed her carefully. Watching her movements, closely, he snuck in through the library door as it were about to shut behind her.

Sliding into a chair, summoning a book to her and charming a chair so that it moved from the table, she said, with her back to him, "Remus, if you're going to follow me, at least make more of an effort to look inconspicuous."

Sitting in the seat she had moved from the table, he was barely able to see the shade of her eyes as they were trapped behind the book, which read on the front cover, "_Dangerous Beasts and Mystical creatures of Welsh Origin_." Deciding to avoid the silly question of, 'Is there anything wrong', as there obviously was, he tried,

"Still musing over what to teach your students?"

Grateful that he hadn't paid attention to her disheveled state, she nodded her head, whilst chewing on the end of her wand and mumbled, the wood still in her mouth,

"I know the guidelines, but yeah, I thought I'd bring some of my own origin into the course. Make it interesting."

Her eyes, now calming to a subtle shade of pink, he nodded his head and dragged his eyes from hers, feeling it were unnecessary to look at her so closely for much longer. Folding his palms together, on top of the table, glancing briefly over the lines caused by his transformations, he attempted to make some reference to what he had heard,

"You had a run in with Snape, didn't you?"

Judging by her silence, he guessed that she had. As her eyes seemed to lighten, so did her hair, from a shade of pitch black to one of dark brown that matched his own. Her pink eyes still fluttering, the book lain down on the table, he reached for one of her hands that lay on the open page. She didn't seem to notice the gesture and, so, rubbing a thumb over her hand he said,

"Are you alright?"

Awaking from her mild trance, she nodded her head,

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just, something he said, it got to me."

Remus' following snort caused her eyes to fully open and, noticing his hand were on hers, she pulled away a little and watched him closely.

"Yeah, that's Snape alright. Don't be bothered by it Tonks," he said, reacting to her pulling away from him and the shock in her eyes from what he said.

"Severus isn't a people person, he's cold to everyone, and it's not just you. You'd do well to just stay out of his way."

It was Tonk's turn to snort,

"Do you realise what you just said? Remus, we're going to be working together for the next entire year. It won't be physically possible for me to stay out of his way and even when I try, I always end up annoying him anyways."

"Now, you can't be that hard on him. I know he's not the friendliest of people, but he is a fair man." It was only because of the thought of the Wolfsbane potion, that drove Remus to defending the cold man, and he shivered unpleasantly at the thought of opposing her in favor of him.

"You could say that again..." she mused, flicking through the pages of her book, bored with the conversation now. How she was expected to want to talk him when he defended that idiot, she didn't know. Her hair fading into a lighter shade of brown again, she violently became aware of her changing state, of how her hair was slowly fading back to its original color, she squeezed her eyes and imaged the red curls back. Her eyes, now completely calmed down, were a lilac color. Lupin caught onto this change in state and felt a little hurt that she didn't want to reveal how she truly looked, in front of him.

Bouncing one of the curls in her hand, completely unaware of the pained expression on Remus' face, she mused,

"I get the impression he doesn't think too highly of me, Severus I mean."

Leaning back in his chair, stretching out his legs, he sighed, "Back to that now, are we?" He had been hoping that their conversation wouldn't consist of that man wholly. He had nothing substantially against him, but it pained him to think she thought and worried more over Snape than himself. Worried by what these thoughts indicated, he ran a hand over his eyes, as if to wipe away the tiredness, blaming the thoughts on that, he replied,

"Snape is the kind of man who enjoys his private space."

"And what exactly has that got to do with him being so negative about me getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?"

Placing his hand back on the table, leaning further toward her again, he said,

"Don't tell him I told you this, but it's pretty common knowledge that he's wanted that position for years."

Tapping her quill against the rough parchment, with a shrug of her shoulders, she asked, "And what has that got to do with me. That's still no reason for him to be spiteful."

"In my books, it isn't at all, but well, he has his reasons for thinking he would've been far better suited to the job than you."


	3. An argument produces many wounds

A/N: I'm glad this is liked. I've had mentions of Hestia made to me; don't worry, she'll be in the story soon. She provides essentially the main comic relief for the whole tale.

"I'd respect his so-called reasons, if he had the decency to tell me them." she concluded. "It's not fair to hold something against me and expect me to accept that, if he hasn't said so much as a word to me, that doesn't come from a grunt or a sneer." she protested, both hurt and humiliated that Remus had defended her current worst enemy.

She felt him take her hand once more and this time, she paid full attention to it and responded by saying,

"I'm sorry Remus, I talk way too much of myself and him, forgetting you have your own problems to deal with."

"Forget it," he said, wavering a hand, smiling honestly, "We all have our problems, they may not be in equal weight by comparison, but they are equally as hard to deal with internally."

She nodded and chewed on her lip, slightly worried. Why did she have the inexplicable urge to kiss him right now. Realising she were giving off passionate signals, by biting her lip seductively, she ceased her actions and sat back in her chair, becoming once again enthralled in the diagrams of the Welsh Green Dragon.

"You'll be fine." spoke Remus out of the blue and she looked up to see that he had folded his arms, save his hands from wandering to anywhere further than hers. "So long as you stay out of the basement. That's where he wanders to most evenings and it's also where he works. The man likes the dark for some baffling reason." he commented, to finish, sounding as though this were a criticism. Noting how he didn't seem to like talking about Snape, Tonks smiled and agreed with him happily.

That was until she heard him draw another breath and caught him leaning back in his chair casually. He spoke again, only this time, his words sounded younger, too young for his looks and they reminded Tonks of her times at school.

"Severus just cant hack the fact that you're young, beautiful and intelligent and you got the job he wanted, right away. He's been at Hogwarts for years, decades maybe, I'm guessing he's bitter because he's jealous. To put it bluntly, Nymph, he doesn't think you capable."

Shooting him a fierce look, she took back her hand abruptly, slammed her book shut and kicked her chair back under the table. "Thanks for that, Remus!" she spat, angrily. "Nice to know what Severus _really_ thinks of me. Oh and I loved your tact with words, thanks for being so considerate." With that, she left the library.

Taking her book with her, she wrinkled her nose as her hair became the same fiery red as that of Bill Weasley's hair. Red freckles dotting around her nose, her eyes glowing a yellowy sort of orange, she walked down the stairs, rather slowly for someone so angry.

About halfway down the staircase, she suddenly felt the need to turn back as a pang of guilt twanged inside of her. Not wanting to seem either hasty or too apologetic, she creaked open the door to the library once more, only to find a very hurt Lupin wandering out of the room via the back passage.

With a sunken heart, she made her way back down the stairs and touched lightly on the level floor of the ground as she found herself in the main hallway. Running her fingers along the spine of the book, she closed her eyes briefly, swallowing her burning sense of guilt as she did so. Feeling only slightly better, she rounded the corner and wandered into the Kitchen, barely stopping to acknowledge any other presence in the room.

Flicking her wand toward a candle near her, she lit it gently and then placed her book down just as carefully. Summoning a mug from one of the shabby cupboards and opening the tea pot, she ignited a fire beneath the copper kettle and walked toward the main area of the kitchen, running a tense finger over her stressed temples.

Pouring herself some tea, she thought of how the fumes seemed rather therapeutic and, closing her eyes, she allowed the heat to sweep over her numb face. Cupping the mug in her hands, she raised it to her lips and sipped the liquid from it cautiously.

Across, on the other side of the room, at the very end of the last table, was sat Professor Severus Snape. From the moment she had walked into the room, it had become apparent that she had not the faintest idea that someone were already in there. If it weren't for her seemingly disturbed state, he would have sneered at her or told her to remove herself from his presence.

But instead, he watched her carefully as she moved around the room in a slow manner. He was most surprised to find that, contrary to his suspicions, the girl did not talk to herself. She was actual silent for once and seemed to be capable of causing not one clumsy action. There was something about the way she moved, the way her eyes averted to wherever they need be, the hypnotic way she moved her wand, that entranced him into a state he had not felt for some years.

Suddenly, he awoke himself from his silly stupor and coughed shortly into his balled up fist. He had not meant to startle her, but it was obvious he had as he heard the familiar sound of china knocking against stone. He could guess, without even looking, that she had dropped her mug in short fright.

His eyes drifting upward, only because he knew he ought see if she were alright, he caught the terrified expression on her face and somehow got an inkling that she were more scared or frightened of him than the deep looking burn gashed along her arm. Sweeping from his chair, a move so unlike himself, he whisked up the broken pottery and mopped up the split tea through charming a nearby rag.

The girl, who now had hair of a fiery red, made him take a step back as he intended to move toward her. The shade of her hair, it seemed so familiar, the scattered freckles on her china-like face, they forced the memory of Her into his resentful mind. Quite forgetting himself, he raised a hand to one of her quivering cheekbones and traced a finger down to her chin, his thumb and index cupping it gently.

She had been scared by his presence alone and became even further so when he had walked toward her. Now that he were close and his hands were on her, his skin touching hers, she felt suddenly unable to control the amount in which she were shaking and her lips quivered nervously as she felt her real appearance slowly taking form over her face.

As the likeness of Tonks to Her faded, he allowed his hand to drop and took the advantage of needing a medical kit, to allow the flush that had overcome his face, dissolve away to allow his pasty complexion to return. Turning back to her and taking a sharp, even harsh hold of her wounded arm, he strayed from looking her in the eye as he saw to her bleeding wound.

The moment he had turned away, the fiery redness of her hair had returned. Breath caught in her chest, she found herself shocked that her real appearance felt itself necessary to rear it's ugly head in front of a man such as him. Raising a freehand to her sweaty forehead, she tried to control her breathing as the controlled man saw to her injury.


	4. Tears & kisses

A/N: Very perceptive. Yes her appearance is no coincidence and neither were his reactions. I always thought it'd be interesting if Snape did have a certain infatuation with Lily. She was supposed to be popular with the boys and it was asked in a recent interview whether he had a crush on her but JK didn't really answer. Meh so yes, as you can probably see, this complicates matters. But don't worry, this story is NOT fluff.

Although I am intrigued by the rolling of the eyes :P

Tonks made sure not to flinch as he carefully set the bandages around her arm and fastened them with a safety pin. Taking her arm back steadily, she held it against her chest and mopped up the small mess she had made on the work surface. The removal of her eyes from his, seemed to give him the impression she did not want his presence around her anymore and so he returned to his seat and his work, with a distracted mind.

He tried not to watch her, but it was impossible when his thoughts were constantly interrupted by the movement of her feet on the floorboards. Finally, she sat, with a glass of water and started to read through her book, although her eyes seemed to be staring rather than reading.

Reminding himself that she were none of his business, he put on his normal somber miserable expression and set to scribbling a rather complicated potion onto a scrap piece of parchment.

An hour later she left the room, breathing only once she had closed the door behind her. That had to have been the worst hour of her entire life. She was scared so much as to breathe around him, let alone turn a page of a book and risk making a noise. Delicately tip-toeing into the living room and flopping herself on one of the many sofa's, she kicked her sandals off and sprawled her legs over the fabric.

Sat in the corner, his chin in his hand, staring out of the window, was Harry. He looked so sad, so distracted, so anywhere but there. Getting up, anything but quietly, she laid a hand on his shoulder and said, her tone somehow not as chirpy as it used to be,

"Wotcher, Harry..."

Harry half smiled up at her and squeezed his hand over hers. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she hugged him tightly, kissing his forehead as she did so.

"You alright Harry? Where's Luna?"

Releasing from the hug, he seemed sadder as he spoke, "She's gone now. I'm doing alright, what about you?"

Tonks hadn't thought on the matter much, but suddenly, she found tears escaping her eyes and she turned her head so that he could not see her. _She_ was the adult here, _she_ was supposed to be the strong one. Coughing, she mumbled, "Sirius and I were never that close."

"But you were family." said Harry, standing, trying to look at her. Seeing her tears, he hugged her this time.

"I'm so sorry, Harry..." she spoke, wiping the tears from her eyes, ceasing her crying."I just really hadn't thought about it until now and then it just sort of..."

"Erupted?" asked Harry, knowingly. She nodded her head in return and opened her mouth to say something when a sharp knock could be heard coming from the door way.

Dabbing at her eyes with the melon handkerchief that was stuffed down her sleeve, she hinted for Harry to sit and, sniffing into the material, she called for the person to come in.

Lupin walked in warily and closed the door behind him quietly. Harry was back on the sofa and was now staring out the window, tears prickling around his eyeballs but never falling.

"Harry...?" started Lupin, walking toward the boy and moving as if to place a hand on his shoulder. As his hand was about to make contact with Harry, the boy bolted up and shot toward the door, opening it and then slamming it behind him.

Tonks watched with reddened eyes as Lupin sat on the sofa where Harry had been and ran his hands through his slowly fading hair. She heard him groan into his palms and, feeling maybe as though he might need it more than her, she handed him the handkerchief, a look of apology on her face.

"Sorry, for earlier..." she stammered, her sweaty palms becoming sticky, Tonks never was good at apologies. He took the material from her hands and ran his thumb over it, squinting at the embroidered letters in the corner that read, 'NT'.

"Sirius gave this to you..." he said vaguely, looking more at her than the writing. She nodded her head and their eyes stared into one another for a few moments, until she could bear it no longer and turned away feeling the sadness arise up in her again. What was going on with her, she never cried, she hadn't yet cried once for Sirius, so why was she now?

Lupin seemed to see these tears and he stood parallel to her and slipped the handkerchief just under her eyes, collecting the tears on the yellowy cloth. "You need it more." he said, his eyes averting so quickly that they didn't stay on hers for longer than a millisecond. She was about to move forward and take the hankie from him, when she stood on her shoelace and almost fell in a mess over him. Catching her around the waist, he pushed her back again almost as instantly as he saw how close they had been and that she was alright from the fall.

"Urmm thanks" she stuttered, taking the hankie back in her hands and squeezing it inside her fist. "I'm sorry about Harry, I really don't know what's gotten into him lately. He's so quiet and he only ever seems to want to talk to Luna. Right here, just then, was the most I've gotten out of him all summer, and even then it was only a few mumbled words..." Before she had chance to say anymore, she found herself blubbering again into her hankie and leaning on Lupin's offered shoulder for support.

Excusing what she'd said, she shook her head and mumbled, "I have no right to complain about him. Who am I to expect him to open up to me, he barely knows me."

Lupin, not knowing quite what to do pat her on the back and, thinking of what Sirius might think of him at a time like this, loosened his grip on her and slid his arms around her softly. He had never been apt at dealing with women; Sirius had been the expert in that area of things. Smiling, he held her gently and rocked her back and forth, his head leant on hers.

"I can't fool myself into believing he'd open up to me. We were never as close as he was to Sirius. The only time he ever really confided in me was when he still thought Sirius to be a murderous man who was after him. Once he found out that he was his God-Father, I think he sort of forgot about me."

"Don't be so stupid." she said, lifting her head, her red curls sticking to the tears on her cheeks. "Harry loves you, everyone can see that. He just needs time."

"He needs time to talk to me, but not to Luna Lovegood."

Shaking her head, she gave off a short giggle and pulled a funny face at him, changing her nose in between every word. "Do you mean to tell me, Remus John Lupin, that you're getting jealous of a sixteen year old girl?"

Laughing back at her because of her nose changes, her patronising Molly-like tone and the way she just seemed to cheer him up, he replied, "Don't be so ridiculous _Nymphadora_, I just wish he would, you know, talk to me."

"And he will, in time. I think, for the moment, he just needs to clear his head and work out how he feels. Luna can help him in that, you know it. She lost her mother at a very young age and to live to the age she is now, without her, is remarkable. Hopefully, she will pass her gift of faith onto him and he'll get through this. But believe me, you're not useless."

At this last comment, she heard a snort from by the door. Severus walked in; picked up some books from the table, glanced at the two of them holding one another and walked directly back out.

Looking down at his arms around her, she finally realised what it may have looked like to an outsider. Not that she cared at all what Snape thought, after what she had found out about his thoughts on her, but still, the way in which they held each other unnerved her a little.

"What's wrong, Tonks?" he asked, snapping her out of her trance and holding her chin so she were looking at him. "You didn't scold me for calling you by your real name; you always scold people when they do that." To try and satisfy him, she slapped him playfully on the top of his arm and with this gesture he seemed happy as he bent his head down and to kiss her forehead. By luck, chance or fate, she wasn't sure which one it was, she happened to lift her head at that exact same instant and their lips met, at first in shock. But then they relaxed and seemed to fall into place with one another as he held her tightly.


	5. Harsh words & Home truths

A/N: An inner battle? Excuse the paranoia but so long as that's no reflection on my writing, I'm cool.

I kind of contradicted myself last time seeing as I said this wasn't fluff and yet ended with a fluffy moment. Believe me; those are few and far between so please don't let that put anyone off reading!

It was with reluctance that Tonks had left Lupin, having been called by Dumbledore to see him urgently. She hadn't wanted to leave him abruptly, but she was glad to be out of his hold and free to think things over. She really hadn't thought through what she had done properly and she feared that the kiss had meant far more to Lupin than it had to her. To her, it was more of a pity kiss, a kiss given and taken out of comfort, not love.

Sighing, thumbing the note Albus had handed her, a part of her wished to open it so desperately and seek what was inside of it. She knew it was something of great importance, Albus had been most severe on that matter but he had also been insistent that it were to be she who delivered it so Severus.

She could only presume that, that meant this note concerned her. Clutching it in her fist and using the other to balance her way down into the stony basement, she coughed shortly from the amount of unnecessary dust on the staircase.

She rapped upon his door sharply and let herself into the room without as much as a grunt in response from him. Squinting in the darkness, she ignited the three unlit candles in the room and saw that he was bent over a cauldron, sprinkling something that looked like nail clippings, into it.

"Who told you to light more candles?"

Crossing her arms, defending herself, she stammered,

"You can't presume to suggest that you can work properly in these poorly lit conditions, so I saw fit to light more."

He grunted in response, Tonks felt he was probably cursing her and then he said,

"And who told you to enter the room?"

Standing beside him, scowling up at him, she stuffed the note into his chest pocket and glanced at her nails, uninterestedly,

"You clearly weren't about to answer the door to anyone. And if you had, you weren't about to let anyone in, least of all me."

"And there was me thinking you were dim-witted. You seem to have a pretty good grasp on how I estimate you, Nymphadora."

"Tonks." she corrected him defiantly and then added, "Aren't you going to read it then, Mr. I'm-right-about-everything. That's the whole buggaring reason I'm here. You don't to think I'd come and be in your presence of my own free will, do you?" she asked, sneering at him, wondering if he'd like a taste of his own medicine. Instead, as he scanned the letter with his dark sharp eyes, he looked at her slightly hurt and pulled out two chairs, pausing the potion brewing with his wand.

"How easily you seem to have forgotten about what I did for you earlier." he replied, indicating for her to sit down opposite him. She sat, reluctantly and clutched at her bandaged arm, about to apologise to him when she caught herself and prevented her mouth from saying anything. Opening the letter and holding it up vaguely, but so that she couldn't see it's content, he asked, sneering, "You have no idea what this is, do you, child?"

"Why do you insist on calling me a child? I graduated from Hogwarts over five years ago, I don't have the physique or mind of a child, so I am clearly not one."

Removing his outer robe and slinging it on the back of the chair, he ran a scarred hand through his greasy hair and said, "Yes, but you have the patience, curiosity and clumsiness of a child. Now, listen."

He made a motion as if to hand her the note, but she knew better than to take it. Instead, she allowed him to re-open it and thumb the folds out of it, whilst she muttered,

"And since when is your opinion fact."

Hearing her mindless prattle, he shook his head and, infuriated that she clearly couldn't see the seriousness of the matter, he threw the letter down upon the floor and barked, "Why don't you just shut up, for once!"

When he shouted at her, she stood and faced him, rather than just sitting allowing him to shout down at her like a teacher to a child.

Making sure they were eye to eye, she narrowed her pupils at him and scowled, in the deepest hatred she could muster, she snarled,

"My mother taught me to never allow myself to be silenced by men."

For a second and for some peculiar reason, her stand of deviancy had a short impact on him. Students and colleagues for that matter, never or rarely stood up to him. Stunned, he composed himself and felt his fists clenching. Fighting the urge to hit her, he rashly took hold of her shoulders, in a mechanical manner and sat her down on the wooden chair. Placing a hand on either side of the it, so that he were stood over her, his hands just behind her shoulders, he said, almost in a pleading manner, "Just listen."

She swallowed slowly, her heart racing as he had taken a fiercely strong hold on her. For a smidgen of a second, she had thought she were about to be kissed for the second time today. As he thrust her into the chair, she cursed herself for even imaging those thoughts and shuddered at the cold image of this man ever showing any affection toward any human being. Watching his lips move in front of her, she vowed, inside herself, to listen to him, but she would not be silenced.

"I'm all ears." she said, simply with a feigned grin on her face. Taking that this was the most co-operation he could expect to get from her, he sat on the edge of his desk, rather than his chair and grumbled,

"I really don't know why Dumbledore thought you could handle the position of defense against the dark arts teacher, and now he's expecting me to put up with you in other places too. You're seriously going to need to change your attitude."

Folding her arms and crossing her leg, she pulled down on her ruffled skirt and said,

"For you? Not likely. So what are these 'other places' that you speak of?"

She watched him through fixed eyes as he placed a silencing charm around the room with a quick flick of his wand. He placed his wand, then, back down on the dark surface of his inadequate desk and began to roll up his sleeves. Seeing the glint in her eyes, he attempted to halt her before she made another inconvenient and unnecessary comment.

"Before you respond, consider that I would never even entertain the thought of undressing for you."

A blush, most unwanted and unpredicted, crept onto her face and she suddenly found herself grateful for the darkness of the room. Just as she felt her body heat cooling, he moved toward her once more and, to her horror, she saw the dark mark embellished onto his pale and stretched skin. She lifted a finger, as if it were drawing her in and meant to trace the lines with her delicate finger, but he pulled away before she did so.

"Are you completely stupid?" he asked, mortified. "You can't touch the dark mark. You obviously don't have any idea what impact that might have upon you."

Growing tired of him pointing out her faults, she said,

"Look, you've clearly kept me here for a reason. I suggest that you stop being insulting unless you want me to leave."

He carefully pulled back down his sleeve and attempted to re-do the button on the collar of it.

"I _do_ want you to leave." he said, distinctly, "However, you can't. There are things that need to be explained. I will, however, refrain from commenting on your lack of useful knowledge if you will kindly stop interrupting me."

Tonks, who rarely had nothing to say, was lost for words and so tilted her head as she stepped toward the man. He seemed to be having trouble with the button on the collar of his sleeve, so she took it in her hands and began to re-do it. As the red head did so, she failed to notice the way his eyes lit up when he caught the shade of her hair, the wave it formed and the speckled beauty of her freckles. Just as she were about to drop his shirt from her grip, his surprisingly warm fingers gently caressed her ear and his hand came to a steady rest behind it. Confused, she focused on looking at his eyes, knowing it was not her he was seeing.

Unnerved, Tonks took his hand firmly in hers, waking him up instantly, stammering, "I know you don't see me when you look at me like that. Please, don't do it. It disturbs me."

It seemed to do unnerve him equally, as he took her by the shoulders and sat her back in the chair she had once sat, whilst he perched back upon the edge of the desk. Neither said anything for a few minutes and both looked away, wanting to avoid catching the other's eye. Finally, Snape bent down and picked the letter back up from the floor.

"This isn't going to work, Nymphadora, if you insist on being difficult."

She distinctly remembered saying those exact words to him earlier and snorted,

"Those were _my_ previous words, _Severus_. And how am I being difficult? You're the one who seems to fall into a trance everytime you look into my eyes."

She could tell that her last few words had once again agitated him and he lifted a nervous hand, tracing it along the hairline on the back of his neck.

"You remind me of someone that is all."

"Fine." she said, scrunching her nose up. "I'll change my appearance then." To her surprise, instead of her hair turning deathly black and straight, it became a straggly dirty blonde.

"You looked like that earlier, briefly." he noted.

"Yes, by mistake." she said, as she wrinkled her nose forcibly and eventually succeeded in forcing her hair to become deathly black, straight and her eyes to become vividly red.

Snape could take a guess at what that earlier appearance meant to her, but it was not his place to mention something so personal. Metamorphamagi only showed their true faces in front of people who they deeply cared about. He was not one of them and thinking that he might be would make him feel dreadfully uncomfortable. Glad she had changed back; he took the letter back up in his hands and passed it to her.

"Read it and tell me what you think." he said, commandingly.


End file.
